


Allura's Top Picks!

by Pearl_Posts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, BAMF Hunk (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), Blood and Gore, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Road Trips, Will update tags, idk if it's super bloody, it's not but it might be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl_Posts/pseuds/Pearl_Posts
Summary: The apocalypse is quiet and lonely. Allura's playlist guides the way through thousands of miles of zombified wasteland.
Relationships: Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Paradise City

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a really long time since I've posted fanfiction
> 
> Anyway thanks to my best bro Caleb for making the playlist
> 
> These chapters will get longer as we get into more content

First of all, who checks their school alert app during midterm cramming week?

Second of all, it’s not like checking the alert would have prepared Lance any better for the weird sick guy that ambled into the library and made a ruckus he could hear through his headphones. 

He was on the second floor overhang, pretending to read the same paragraph about color theory he’d read a dozen times before. His phone vibrated again in his pocket, but it was Snapchat this time, so Lance pulled his--Pidge’s--headphones down to his shoulders and thumbed open the notification.

It was from Hunk. come back to the dorm. What are you doing out??

Lance sent his one-word reply, studying, and someone at the computers below screamed.

He jumped up from the couch, more startled and annoyed than actually scared. People made loud noises and they shouldn't be in the library all the time. He just wanted to get back to his Art History textbook.

Another notification from Hunk. seriously, come back now!!! Didn’t you read the alert?

Something sour settled in his gut, but Hunk was a mom-friend. He worried too much.

lol who reads the alerts? Lance replied. The message turns gray and the notification pops up, Not sent. Not sent.

The lights shut off with the sudden halt of the electric whir of machinery. Lance and the guy on the overstuffed plastic couch across from him meet eyes. The light from the high box window casts a spotlight between them. For a heartbeat, it’s quiet, just his breath and the sour queasiness in his stomach and the shuffle of confused people trying to get their computers back on.

Someone--something?--steps into the light. Disgusting is a nice way of putting it. Lance knows her. She’s the library coordinator who sometimes puts good candy out, like Hershey’s bars and mini KitKats.

“Hey, you alright?” The guy across from him says. The library coordinator turns to him. There’s a huge chunk missing from the back of her neck, deep black blood spilling out onto her dress with every step.

Lance stands. Opens his mouth, but that’s what the other guy did, and he’s not about to put himself in the zombie’s line of sight, thank you very much.

Zombie.

She ambles, and the guy sits up straight on the couch. Lance can see his face over the not-woman’s shoulder--is she a woman anymore? Is it human?--the box window light spilling onto the slow progression of realization, then fear.

Lance cries, “Dude, move!”

The librarian turns to him.

He’s seen all the zombie shows out there. Loved them, actually. He watched the old ones back home with his older siblings, even though his mama didn’t want him watching gore. He knew it was fake though.

He wanted to pretend that this is. The queasy, roiling suspicion told him otherwise.

The librarian shuffled toward him, teeth gnashing like something from a movie. Lance grabbed his school bag. He jumped onto the couch and clambered onto the wall, barely wide enough for his sneakers. There was a two-story drop on one side and a zombie on the other. The stairs were close, barely a few steps away. 

The librarian lurched. She fell over the couch. Lance jumped over her, landed with a jolt, and bolted down the stairs.

He was lucky his dorm wasn’t far. There’s no way Lance could have kept running all the way across campus, trying not to look at the occasional blood splatter. At one point, he was so distracted not looking that one of the zombies snatched at his jacket. He yanked his arm free and fell into the dorm lobby. Jacket askew off his shoulder and backpack hanging off his elbow.

The dorm was quiet. The zombie just outside slaps against the window. Lance startled, totally didn’t shriek, and raced to the staircase.  
Even that was silent. There were usually people to squeeze past, or music blasting from some daytime party, or some guy sitting on the landing with a guitar.

Lance paused with his hand on the doorknob to his floor. He pressed his ear against it, even peeked under the crack. Nothing, just the dim sunlight from the window at the end of the hall. He eased open the door and raced to his dorm to pound on the door.

It slammed open and Lance fell in, right against Hunk, who caught him with a cry of, “Lance!”

“There are freakin’ zombies, man!” Lance blurted, kicking the door shut. “Someone needs to call campus police.”

Pidge didn’t take her eyes off her laptop. At least she was there--she rarely came to their dorm, too busy working on robotics projects. “We’ve tried that. Everyone has tried that.”

“So what--what, what do we do?” Hunk stammered. “We can’t just wait around. I have family. And we’ll run out of food.”

“I’m already in contact with my dad and Matt.” She slammed her laptop closed, frustrated. “The news said to stay indoors.”

“No way!” Lance cried. “We have to at least get cell signal. Or a radio or something. My family is back in Cuba, they--they might not even know this is happening!”

Pidge’s frown is halfway sympathetic. “I know. We all have family we can’t get to.”

And they can’t get to them if they’re dead. Lance stuffed his hands in his pockets and let his bag fall to the ground with a defeated thump.

“Go fill one of the bathtubs,” Pidge finally muttered. “In case the water shuts off.”

They stayed there for two weeks. Pidge tried and failed to get a signal, and they didn’t have a radio. Who needed a radio when you had the TV and news and the Internet? Lance’s phone died first, then Hunk’s, and finally Pidge’s.

The water shut off after three days. The bathtub water saved them. They still couldn’t shower, and their food ran out after a week and a half.

Sometimes, it was quiet. More often than not, they were kept awake at night listening to faraway gunfire, or feet in the halls, or desperate screams from rooms around them.

When they finally did leave, it was scared and hungry, with Hydroflasks of week-old bathtub water stuck in the sides of their backpacks and makeshift weapons from their kitchen tucked into their belts.

They had a plan, at least. All they had to do was make it out of the city, maybe north. Anywhere would work, anywhere with food or a radio.

The quad was deserted. Lance watches the bodies they pass warily, one hand on the handle of his thrift store kitchen knife. It seemed like such a small weapon to get across the state with.

They did leave campus, though, all piled into Hunk’s beat-up mom van because it was the biggest. Lance was in the passenger seat, watching the zombies and buildings roll past. Eventually, Pidge stuck her head between them to poke at the radio, and dialed it in.

It was crackly, the speakers old and signal far. But some machine somewhere was working well enough to play music. Lance rolled the window down just enough to let in a breeze and pretend like it was a normal Saturday.


	2. Killer Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nobody left in the world, until there is.

It’s rare there’s a day one of them has to get up early, but they do anyway. Go figure. Hunk barely even remembers what it’s like to want to sleep in. Things are boring this far north. Maryland, he thinks, but all the street signs are long faded or splattered with blood.

Their RV broke down on the side of a lake about a month and a half ago. The water is clear, but they picked up a portable filtrator anyway because Pidge told Lance about all the amoebas and diseases in water to scare him away from what could have been a swim in a lake full of zombie fishes.

Zombie fishes. Hunk shudders.

He knocks the side of the RV to let Pidge know to dial in the radio. They barely get a signal out here, but they have to try. Radio is a necessity, but still seems like a faraway memory sometimes. They haven’t heard from anyone in almost a year.

Hunk slides down the windshield and hops onto the ground, leaning into the window to listen. Pidge is talking to static, one side of her old headphones pressed to her ear. “Hello? Anyone? This is Pidge Holt…” She pauses and tries again, “Dad? Matt?”

There’s no answer. Hunk sighs and takes a few steps back to stare at the rigged up antenna on the top of the RV. “Yeah, I don’t know how much taller we can make this thing without another trip back to that town, and we don’t have any more vehicles.”

“It’s, what, a few miles?” Lance passes with a storage bin of their clothes to hang up. “I can go tomorrow and be back by night.”

“We need a vehicle to carry the type of dish we probably need,” Hunk explains. Lance just frowns and continues on his way. 

Pidge pounds a button and the static stops. “See, the thing is we can probably get a signal in, but for whatever reason we’re not picking anything up.”

Lance pauses again. In the beat of quiet, he suggests, “Maybe it’s because there’s no one left to answer.”

The three of them know that, logically, there’s no way they’re the only surviving humans left in the world. But besides each other, they haven’t seen anyone but the occasional wandering corpse since they crossed the Maryland border--or what Hunk is pretty sure is the Maryland border. 

For all the zombie shows and movies out there, Hunk would have thought at least one would touch on how lonely the world gets with no media. He knows Lance hasn’t heard from his family since they left the university two and a half years ago. Pidge hasn’t heard from her dad and brother at all.

But Hunk...Hunk is okay, at least today. His family lived in an apartment in New York. It was their first stop out of the dorm they spent their first two weeks in. 

“Hey. You look lost again.” Lance’s hand invites itself on Hunk’s shoulder. He startles, but nods.

“I’m fine,” he answers, mostly truthful. He probably won’t ever be fine again. Not like he was back when all he had to worry about was his mechanical engineering degree.

Pidge jumps down from the RV and clambers up onto the roof again to inspect Hunk’s work. “It’s probably your double-modulation.”

“My double is fine! It didn’t work when we single modulated it either,” Hunk protests. 

He can hear the eye roll in her voice. “Whatever. Let’s try it. We can also probably reroute the connection and…” she trails off. Hunk shields his eyes from the sun and Lance starts humming something.

It’s nice to have sound, at least. He doesn’t remember the last time he heard birds, or music, or a stranger’s voice that wasn’t yelling at him.

Pidge jumps down from the hood of the RV and races to turn on the radio again. There’s static. She turns the dial, and Hunk leans in to see.

Finally, there’s a break in the drone of silence. Pidge lets up a loud cry of relief and tunes it in. Lance drops the shirt he was hanging back into the basket and squeezes in next to Hunk.

“Go back,” he instructs, excited. 

Pidge slaps his hands away with an annoyed, “I heard it, Lance. Quit.”

The voice gets clearer slowly. It snaps into place. “--hear me, I repeat, can anyone hear me? This is Allura Altea. I am with a group in Plant City, Nevada. If you can hear me, please…”

It’s the first voice they’ve heard in months. The first living human they’ve had any sort of contact with. Something tense unravels between them.

Hunk snatches up the speaker and plugs it into the audio adapter. They grabbed it from a news station not long ago. He presses the button to speak. His voice surprises him, wobbly and unsure. “C-Copy you, Allura Altea. This is Hunk Garrett.”

Next to him, Pidge sucks in an anticipated breath. There’s a pause.

“Copy you, Hunk Garrett,” the woman on the other end breathes. Pidge and Lance cheer again and Lance slings an arm over her shoulder to ruffle her hair, proud. She doesn’t even shove him away. “I am broadcasting the address of a safe community. We have food, water, power, and weapons.”

Pidge scrambles for the glove box and finds a half-dried Expo marker. She nods at Hunk, poised to write on the driver side window, and the woman reads off a list.

It’s a military base in Nevada. Hunk starts nervously, “Nevada is really, really far from us.”

“The journey will be worth the risk,” Allura responds, fierce. “Our base is well-equipped. When you arrive, I will ensure your safety.”

“It could be a trap,” Pidge suggests darkly.

“There’s nowhere else to go,” Lance argues. “Anything could be a trap. Besides, she sounds pretty.”

“We’ll keep you updated as long as we can,” Hunk tells Allura, watching his friends for...comfort, maybe? Instruction? He hates being in charge.

“Stay safe, Hunk Garrett,” Allura offers warmly. The radio clicks back to static, and they’re alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allura's Radio Broadcast (Top Picks!) Playlist on Spotify--https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0R0na0nYdplQH1LL2Bf9SL
> 
> Killer Queen by Queen--https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZBtPf7FOoM

**Author's Note:**

> Allura's Radio Broadcast (Top Picks!) Playlist on Spotify--https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0R0na0nYdplQH1LL2Bf9SL
> 
> Paradise City by Guns n' Roses--https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rbm6GXllBiw


End file.
